I turned back to my search when I realized Homer was waiting a little impatiently. Cream Pie, Cream Pie, yes. There it was. I pulled the movie and handed it to Homer, now standing at the counter. He seemed to be looking at me differently since he thought it was my fault Lorraine broke her ankle. I smiled at him, hoping he'd think I was innocent.
“Four dollars, please,” I said.
Goldie patted Lorraine on the arm. “Oh, dear. What a terrible thing to happen. And your nose, too.” Goldie was a very kind woman. She took care of everyone in town, whether through being a customer at the store, or just a friend or neighbor. Everyone knew Goldie, and she knew everyone within a fifty mile radius.
Her son, Nate, had died several years before from some kind of heart attack or something, but she'd never lost the mothering gene. I found she tended to have lots of chicks to take care of, including myself.
With Lorraine's multiple wounds and sad story of spousal infidelity, with me, nonetheless, Goldie swooped in to protect the meek. And boy, did Lorraine look meek sitting there. Feathers, bruises, bandages and leg braces.
“The doc who took care of my foot says he knows you.”
Now Homer raised an eyebrow at me.
“Oh?” I commented, although it wasn't much of a surprise someone knew me since it was a small town.
“Dr. O or some such letter.”
I nodded. “Sure, Mike Ostranski.”
“Wanted me to tell you the paddle was working out. Make any sense to you?” Lorraine eyed me suspiciously.
Now Homer had both eyebrows raised. Did he really think I was into paddle play with a doctor at the hospital? And, responsible for corrupting Lorraine's husband? With the look on his face, he definitely thought so.
Jack was smirking. I could see it from where I stood behind the counter. His lip quirked up, and his chest was moving as if he was trying to squelch a laugh. He knew Mike's proclivity toward spanking and wasn't going to let me off easily. Or at all.
“Customer,” I told Homer, trying to explain who Dr. O was.
Homer nodded as he handed me the money. “Right, sure.”
He obviously didn't believe me.
I handed him the movie in a bag. “Have a good one,” I replied as he made his way out of the store. If I ever saw him around town, I had no doubt Homer would switch to the other side of the street to avoid me. Oh, brother.
Homer held open the door for Violet, who came in like a whirling dervish, stomping snow from her feet, cold breeze swirling behind her. Homer stood there frozen in place, staring at Violet. The last expression on his face as the door closed behind him was like he'd seen a ghost, surprised there were actually two of me.
I wanted to stick my tongue out at him and say 'See?', but I held back.
Violet wore a heavy purple jacket, matching hat and gloves, jeans and snow boots. And she looked exactly like me.
“Holy shit,” Lorraine said. She stood up and hobbled over to Violet. Looked her over carefully, her head swiveling between my sister and me. Over and over. To keep the woman's head from unscrewing entirely, I went and stood next to Violet.
“You really are a twin,” Lorraine replied, in awe.
Violet, used to the ogling at being identical, ignored Lorraine. “Hi, Miss Goldie,” Violet said, and then seeing Jack, smiled brightly. “Jack Reid. Been a long time.” She tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear and gave him moon eyes.
Jack didn't look too keen on seeing my sister and it showed. She'd been the one to mess things up for him early on, and his life had changed based on her small transgression. Violet quickly picked up on the cold shoulder and dropped the flirting act.
“Violet,” he murmured politely, but definitely without any feeling.
Violet looked at me, her face completely confused. “Where's the package you were telling me about?”
“You,” Lorraine said, jabbing Violet in the shoulder, “You're the one sleeping with my husband.”
Violet's jaw dropped open.
Goldie gasped. This was the first time she'd heard the official accusation. Up to this point, all she knew was that someone looking like me went skiing with her husband, Ronald. Goldie had known Violet and I our whole lives and shenanigans with a married man was the irresponsible, reckless, and moral-free behavior she didn't tolerate. From anyone.
“Violet,” Goldie said, her voice laced with disappointment and anger. She shook her head from side to side in disbelief.
“What?” Violet planted her hands on her hips. “I never slept with anyone's husband! I don't even know who your husband is.” Violet practically yelled at Lorraine. Her fuse was short and she definitely didn't like to be cornered as she was now.
“Ronald,” Lorraine told her. “Name ring a bell?”
Violet visibly deflated like a popped balloon. Oh, shit, had she really slept with a married man?
“Listen, it's not what you think,” she said, her voice much more pleading than a moment ago.
Lorraine hobbled back to the stool and sat down heavily. “Fine. I'm listening.”
“I am, too,” said Goldie. She crossed her arms beneath her ample bosom.
Jack leaned against the glass display case, clearly eager to hear this as well.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I'm...I'm teaching him how to ski,” Violet replied.
We all stood there frozen in place. Of all the possible things Violet could have said, this was not what I'd expected.
In the pregnant pause, a woman approached the counter with a set of blue anal beads. Mid-twenties, bundled up from head to toe. “Hi, I'd like to pay for these.”
“On the house,” Goldie said. She reached across the counter, took the anal beads from the woman, shoved them in a bag and forced them back into the woman's hands. “Have a good day. Come back soon,” she said sweetly as she ushered the woman out the door. I'd never seen her want to get rid of a customer so fast in all the years I'd worked there.
No one else had moved a muscle.
“You're telling me you're teaching Ronald to ski?” Lorraine repeated, once the door closed behind the customer with a cold whoosh of air.
Violet nodded. “He said he wanted it to be a surprise. I just got back from my conference in Salt Lake and there's lots of new snow so the conditions are great. You're going up to Whistler for a work trip next month, aren't you?”
Lorraine rocked her head back as if Violet had spoken in tongues. “Why, yes. It's a conference for the insurance company I work for.”
Violet licked her lips. “As you probably know, Ronald doesn't know how to ski. He thought if he learned, you wouldn't leave him behind in the lodge. He just wanted to spend time together with you.”
Lorraine started to cry. Gasping, body wracking sobs filled the room. I darted a glance at Jack, who was scratching his ear, clearly uncomfortable with a crying woman. Goldie moved in to pat Lorraine's arm. Violet looked triumphant that she'd been vindicated.
“Ronald...Ronald...did...that...for...me?” Lorraine gasped out between tears.
“Ronald loves you. All he does is talk about you,” Violet added, trying to seal the deal.
“How do you know him in the first place?” I asked. No chance I was letting her off with her quick story.
Violet looked at me. “Through work. He's the principal.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
She nodded.
A principal at the local elementary school. Unless the man was completely stupid, sleeping with a colleague, and cheating on a spouse while doing it, would be a career killer. Not just for him, but for Violet as well. I might doubt the quality of some of Violet's morals, but she wouldn't blow her career for a married man.
Lorraine finally started to calm down, her tears all used up. She looked to me, now appearing mollified and a little contrite. “I did all that to you because your sister was teaching Ronald how to ski?”
I internally rolled my eyes, nodded my head.
“Shit, now I feel terrible.”
“I think it's romantic,” Goldie replied, a hand over her heart. “Say, do you like romance novels? This would make a great story.”
I stared at Goldie, mouth agape. Forget the stalking and everything else that had occurred. The romance novel was more important. She was as insane as Lorraine. Maybe the two of them writing a book together would be a good idea. It would get me out of reading and talking about wet fruit and wontons.
“I don't blame you for going crazy,” Goldie added, back on track. “I'd go nuts if I thought my husband was having an affair.” She stated the truth, but also tried to make Lorraine feel better.
I pitied the woman who got between Goldie and her husband, Paul. The stunts Lorraine pulled would be nothing in comparison to the revenge Goldie would exact.
“Yeah, but I went overboard.” Lorraine wiped her nose with the sleeve of her jacket, puffs of goose down taking flight. “You tried to tell me, but I wouldn't listen. But your twin story...you have to admit it was hard to believe.”
Jack came up to stand behind me again, wrapped his arm around my waist. “One of them's enough for me.”
With that, Jack earned an elbow to the gut. He gave an oomph from my efforts.
“I'm sorry if you thought the worst. Ronald knows I'm on the Ski Patrol for Bridger Bowl on the weekends. I was only trying to help out a co-worker,” Violet added.
Lorraine looked down at her lap, then lifted her head, looked me in the eye. “I guess I need to come clean on what I did to your house then.”
Jack's hand tightened about my waist.
“Oh?” I said. I had a feeling this wasn't going to be good.
“The first time I saw Ronald and you...well, you,” she pointed to Violet, “together, I completely lost it.”
That was an understatement of the century.
“I didn't know who you were but I saw you at the grocery store the next day. But it wasn't you,” again, she pointed at Violet. “It must've been you.” Now she pointed to me. “I followed you home, watched your house. When I saw you leave, I went inside, had a cigarette as I considered what I wanted to do to you.”
“Oh, boy,” Goldie said, having a good idea of what was to come. I did, too. The way Jack was squeezing my waist, I figured he did as well.
“I was so mad, I dropped the cigarette onto some papers on your counter and it started a fire. I tried to put it out, I really did. That's how I got this.” Lorraine held up her bandaged hand. “I ran out the back door when I realized it was getting out of hand. I called 911, honest, I did.”
I could tell she was telling the truth. It made sense with how my kitchen was burned to a crisp. The only expression I'd ever seen on her face was anger with a big dollop of angst. She now looked contrite and very, very sorry. “I guess it wasn't old wiring after all,” I commented dryly.
Lorraine stood up, clumped over to me. She placed a hand on my sleeve, looked me dead in the eye. “Even though Ronald was trying to do a sweet thing by surprising me, his trickery led to all this.”
She didn't mention her own insanity, however.
“I'll make him pay every penny of the damages to your house. And, I'm...I'm sorry for all that I did to you,” she said, sincerely.
Wow. I was stunned. She'd actually set fire to my kitchen! “You...you...I mean I can't believe you—”
“I'm sure Ronald will be happy to settle up with Veronica,” Goldie said, talking over me. She looked at me from behind Lorraine's back. I read it as, This poor woman's been through enough.
My house had been set aflame, I'd been stalked, had my house broken into. Violet's actually, but the intention was to mess with me. My van stolen. And Lorraine's been through enough?
I took a deep breath, found my inner chi or whatever it was when I had to deal with Goldie's usual crazy talk. “Lorraine, I think you've been put through more than anyone else with this whole mess,” I said sweetly, trying to lighten the mood. “Look at you.” She definitely wouldn't get a Stalker Of The Year award.
“Yeah, what happened to you?” Violet asked.
Lorraine turned the evil eye on Violet.
“Do you really want to ask that right now?” Goldie asked.
Violet tipped her chin down, pinched her lips tight. “No, ma'am.”
“If you weren't too old, I swear you'd get a spanking for all the headache you've caused. And I don't mean because of this Ronald character,” Goldie said, her voice scolding.
“Give Mike Ostranski a call. He'll take care of it,” I mumbled. The thought of Dr. O smacking Violet on the ass with a paddle warmed my heart. The only thing that would make me feel better was if I could do it myself.
***
Two hours later, Jack and I stood in front of security at the airport. The overhead voice talked about leaving bags unattended as we stared at each other. Even though it was warm inside the terminal, I didn't take off my hat or mittens. I wasn't staying long enough to get comfortable. Jack's bag had been checked and there was nothing left to do but say goodbye.
“I guess this is it,” I said, at a loss in that weird way when someone had to leave. It was as if you'd run out of normal things to say in that in-between time before a departure.
“Look, Miller,” Jack started, rubbing his hand over his head. Realizing he still wore his gray cap, he pulled it off, grasped it in his hand. His hair stood up in spots with static. “I—”
I put my hand over his mouth. I knew how he felt, knew what he tackled back in Florida. I wanted him to stay, if just to shelter him from the bad stuff he had to face.
“Just go. Do the right thing,” I said softly, afraid my voice might break with the emotion welling up.
I couldn't miss the sadness I saw in Jack's eyes, the wariness to clean up his mess. He just nodded, gave me a quick kiss and turned away, handing his boarding pass to the agent.
Once cleared, he turned back and waved, gave a weak smile.
I waved back, gave an equally weak smile, and left.
***
“Guess what?” Goldie asked when I rolled back into the store thirty minutes later. “Lorraine's agreed to write a romance novel with me! I'm so excited. She's such an interesting woman and full of unusual stories.”
She finished ringing up a customer and handed over the bag.
I raised my eyebrows, a little in acknowledgement, a little in surprise. The combination of Goldie and Lorraine was going to be like Mo and Curly from the Three Stooges writing romance. At least I got cut out of it.
“That's great,” I said, my voice flat. I hadn't cried yet, but the lump the size of a baseball in my throat wasn't receding. My eyes burned from the effort to keep the tears at bay. I pulled off my hat and gloves, unzipped my coat.
“Miss him?” Goldie asked. She had on her reading glasses, little rhinestones sparkled from the display lights by the counter. Her hair was in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, a big blingy style hair tie stood out about two inches. It, of course, matched the angora sweater.
I put my handbag behind the counter, turned to her. A woman was browsing in the lingerie section, but seemed self-sufficient. “I...I'm not sure. It's not like I really had him in the first place. He was only here, what, four days?” It was hard to play down what I felt for Jack.
Goldie pursed her lips. “You've loved him since you were sixteen.”
I shrugged my shoulders, afraid to answer that question out loud. “I'm in a funk. His being here changed me and now I don't know what to do with myself. That's why I'm here. I'm afraid if I go home, I'll smell him on my pillow and I'll break down.”
I swallowed around the huge lump. Tears threatened even worse.
“You can always go stay with Violet.”
I rolled my eyes and laughed weakly. “I'd rather shoot myself in the foot.”
“You can stay with me and Paul tonight.” Goldie rubbed my shoulder with her manicured hand.
Nice gesture, but in the morning I'd smell like my great-aunt Betty's rose perfume from staying in Goldie
's floral scented guest room. I truly believed they used the same garden scented laundry soap.
“Nah, I'll be fine.” I gave her a small smile which took tons of effort to make. “Why don't I close up for you? Head home to Paul and tell him 'Hi', for me.”
Goldie shook her head from side to side considering. “Well, sure. But listen, while you're here, I've put the latest installment of my story by the register. Read through it for me? I want it to be error free before I share it with Lorraine tomorrow.”
For once, I was thrilled to read Goldie's word porn. If there was anything that could distract me from Jack's departure and the void he left was really bad romance writing. And I think she asked me to do it as a distraction, the only way she could comfort me right now. I had a feeling she knew a hug would only make me fall apart.
“Sure. I'd love to,” I told her.
Goldie grabbed her coat, bundled up and headed out with a backward wave.
The shipwreck left them, clothes shredded, sprawled across a tropical beach. Her turgid body was coated with sand and salt, one bosom exposed to the midday sun. I knew I had to have her then and there. The sand on my hands would only enhance her pleasure as it coarsely rubbed her nether lips and the dew naturally found there.
I shook my head. Unbelievable. What woman would want sandy hands rubbing her nether lips? I put down the papers and helped a customer. It was going to be a long night. A long rest of my life.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Two weeks later, I'd been able to avoid Violet, delaying the confrontation that was inevitable. I couldn't leave her high school meddling in the past where it belonged until we'd had it out. But I felt it was something that should be done with Jack, or at least offer him the opportunity to confront her as well. I wasn't able to figure out how to accomplish that since I hadn't heard a peep from the man.
I could've called. Asked after him, the progress on his case. But I didn't. He needed to focus on the Jack in Florida, not the Jack in Montana. I fell in love with Montana Jack and I felt I didn't have a place in Florida Jack's life. I wasn't sure if I really wanted one.
Besides, I believed in the days he was with me, he was slowly realizing he wasn't really, deep down, Florida Jack. I think he recognized his old self when he was here in Bozeman and truly wanted to be the guy he once was.
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